


Strike Me Up

by nightstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kinda), M/M, PWP, Public Sex, Rough Sex, bottom!Dean, schmoop talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightstiel/pseuds/nightstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes, Dean, I’d love to bend you over later,” he says, in a low voice, very, very quietly, gazing deep into Dean’s eyes and a stony face, except for maybe a tiny smirk curling in the corner of his lips, and bam,  Dean’s gone, smitten, and he washes down the rest of his drink to stifle a moan. “But right now, I’d like to play... pool,” and looks into the direction of the pool table with an earnest longing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike Me Up

In retrospect, Dean wasn’t sure if it was the best or the worst idea he’s ever had.

It started innocent enough – the three of them hitting the bar after an easy hunt. The hour was late and there seemed no point to drive through the night if their motel room had already been paid for. Bar it is then.

And okay, maybe Dean has been wondering what it would be like to go out in their new arrangement. Not three buddies, or two brothers and a friend, or two brothers and a guy that the older brother is best friends with. Has a crush on. Is in love with. This kind of thing. Now it’s younger brother, older brother and the latter’s boyfriend. That’s what they are, Dean figures – not that that topic came up because Cas doesn’t care and if he kisses Dean, he kisses Dean and that’s it. Dean’s not as comfortable yet with initiating this in public, even though he thinks it would be real nice to take Cas’ hand when they’re shopping for groceries sometimes. Too many eyes making his face red, his father’s voice too loud in his head. But it has been getting quieter, so Dean is slinging one arm around Cas, tipping his glass with his and doesn’t move away when Cas’ knee bumps into his accidentally on purpose.

Dean _is_ trying to flirt with Cas – he is, really, not that he needs to but he likes slipping Cas the innuendo and the subtle hints. Cas has a more direct approach.

“Yes, Dean, I’d love to bend you over later,” he says, in a low voice, very, very quietly, gazing deep into Dean’s eyes and a stony face, except for maybe a tiny smirk curling in the corner of his lips, and bam,  Dean’s gone, smitten, and he washes down the rest of his drink to stifle a moan. “But right now, I’d like to play... _pool_ ,” and looks into the direction of the pool table with an earnest longing.

“All these years and Dean never showed you how to play pool?” There’s incredulity in Sam’s voice and, oh, Dean almost forgot he is there.

“Too busy getting drunk because of the Apocalypse or some other shit, I guess.” Dean shrugs and gets off the stool. “Come on, Cas. Let’s play some eight-ball.” He wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulder and turns back to look at Sam.

“You gonna be fine here?”

“God, yes. It’s time we started getting two rooms, by the way.”

Yeah, good point. Dean likes sharing a bed with Cas, and cuddling, and pretending he only grudgingly accepts being the little spoon as they lie in the darkness and strive very hard to _be good_ , but he would also like to have the alternative and breaking the cheap motel bed by riding Cas with abandon.

Turns out, no one really wants to play pool with them – probably because they strolled over to the table, still excited after the hunt and with Cas’ sporting an exceptionally dark (or adorable, if you’re Dean) scowl on his face – so they have to play against each other, which is actually kinda good since Cas has zero experience with playing pool. At least this way they don’t have to worry about losing money which they can’t really afford. _Especially_ if they will have to book two rooms from now on.

Cas is turning the cue in his hands and the sight is enough to make Dean’s heart leap somewhere to his throat.

“Why pool? There’s no water here. It doesn’t make much sense. I think I like the name _billiard_ better.” He takes the chalk and slowly, very slowly starts rubbing it on the tip of the cue. Dean looks away.

“Well that’s a fancy name. We’re just two hot blooded American males playin’ some pool.”

“Fine.” Cas smiles at Dean and God, he looks good in his jeans from a second-hand shop and Dean’s tank top that he rarely wears anyway _and_ Dean’s red plaid shirt. Dean’s knuckles whiten around where he’s handling his own cue. “Who’s the ball-breaker?”

“That’s not—That’s a joke, right?”

Cas raises an eyebrow at him. Definitely a joke then, and Dean smiles, warm and happy. Cas’ humor was bad as always but Dean has gotten better at it, has learned to expect it and he finds it totally adorable.

They decide Dean should break to even get the game started. He’s poised to take his shot and looks in the direction of Cas at the opposite end of the table, deep in shadows from the low-hanging lights and Cas has really nice hands, long, nimble fingers that Dean knows very well, that are so skilled are wringing pleasure out of him – and he’s wrapping them lightly around their cue, and moving up and down. Cas is just impatient to start the game, right? Dean’s completely transfixed by the slow, loose movement, starting where the cue is pressed against Cas’ crotch.

Dean swallows audibly, and breaks. It’s neat, and stronger than he’d expect given the distraction. Now the real game begins.

“Could you show me again how to aim, Dean?”

Cas knows the basics – he’s watched people playing pool before so he knows how to play at least in theory – aim and then shoot. Dean is pretty sure he got it when Dean showed him how to position his hand before, because he is a fast learner. But okay, if he wants to play this game? Fine.

“I want to make sure I can beat you.”

“We’re not exactly playing for money here, Cas,” Dean mutters as he guides Cas’ hands, helps him wrap his fingers around the cue, keep his hands steady. Cas’ hands are always warm and soft and Dean covers his wrist with his palm because he can.

“We _could_ be playing strip billiard.” Cas turns slight and smiles against Dean’s cheek.

“You sure you don’t want to save that for later?” Dean laughs but presses closer to Cas, maybe adds a little grinding motion just for the effect. “Okay, go get ‘em, O’Sullivan.”

Dean knows some people are watching as he walks over to take his own shot, but – honestly, he doesn’t care. So by the time Cas’ turn comes around he strides over and places his hands on Cas’ hips and Cas’ breath hitches slightly.

“Steady... Breathe in and go for it.” Cas nods and bends forward, his ass brushing against Dean’s dick and oh god, concentration just got a lot harder. Dean takes a step back, his fingers lingering against Cas’ side but that doesn’t help much when Cas starts to wiggle his ass. That’s completely innocent – he’s a new player and all that, he doesn’t have the flesh memory of how to take a good shot except Cas strikes with mathematical precision and Dean wouldn’t like to play against him for money. He sees all the angles and the measurements and just _strikes_.

He orders beers for the two of them and takes his shot while they wait. They’re on the opposite sides again – Cas leaning against his cue, his fingers doing the slightest dance on the polished wood. Dean knows this movement all too well – the loose fist around his hard cock, him in Cas’ lap sitting on his dick and begging Cas to fuck him nice and hard.

Dean bites his lower lip, concentrating at the balls (ha!) before him, teeth slightly grazing the delicate skin, smiling, and looks up at Cas before taking his shot.

So far Cas is two balls ahead of him, but that’s fine. There’s a different kind of excitement now – the game is good, but _their_ game is better, their fingers brushing when they pass the chalk, Dean’s hand on the small of Cas’ back to steady him; Dean stroking the cue up from the height of his crotch to the tip while maintaining eye contact with Cas; Cas spreading over the table to reach a far ball like a tiger, lazy and lethal, now only in a white tank top and jeans, the plaid shirt discarded somewhere. Dean’s sweating and it’s not from the lamps. A third round of their beers arrive and Dean drinks, his lips wrapping sinfully around the bottle and Cas glaring at him, so badly concealing the darkness hooding his eyes.

And now he’s dropping the cue on the table, the game unfinished and grabs Dean by his elbow, steering him towards the bathroom.

He slams the door behind them and locks it – how miraculous that there is a lock, and pushes Dean against the door until it creaks.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs against the soft skin on Dean’s neck and bites, _oh,_ so gently but it sends shivers down Dean’s spine and his cock has already been half-hard  before. “You looked so golden. Your soul, too,” and Dean doesn’t know what to say, he’s horny and on the verge of tears because Cas always says things like this instead of just screwing him like any other dude. But—that’s the thing, isn’t it. He’s not any other dude, he’s Cas and he marvels at the way his eyes shine when he laughs and Dean doesn’t know what to say when Cas drops bombs like this, and he loves him, he loves him _so much_.

“Dean, I love you,” and Cas’ hands are cupping his face, their mouths pressing together, sucking and biting and bruising. “Can I fuck you here?”

„Fuck—yes, Cas, yeah”, and they’re against a wall now, Cas vicious and desperate and despite all that tender in his kisses, his hands all over Dean’s body and Dean reciprocates so gladly, devouring Cas’ mouth and growling obscenities, one hand fisted tightly in Cas’ hair.

And then Cas takes his pants down until they pool around his boots and lifts him up. He has just enough grace, Dean knows, to do this – and to see his soul, sometimes, when emotions are stronger. Dean is extremely graceful because he loves every moment of this, how close Cas is and they’re breathing into each other. Cas brings his fingers to Dean’s mouth and Dean licks eagerly, coats them with saliva, biting down gently on fingertips before he dips two fingers inside, sliding deep into Dean’s ass and it stings just the right amount while Dean holds on to dear life.

“You’re so good, Dean, so wonderful for me.” Cas’ breath his hot against Dean’s ear, fingers bruising his hips as he keeps Dean up, crooking and bending his fingers, and Dean gasps when Cas scissors him open, blood pounding in his veins so loud, Cas pressed against him with all the sharp angles and strong hands. It’s a filthy bathroom in a dive bar and when they walk out of there everyone will know; and Dean couldn’t care less because he still feels warm, and safe and loved and hell, maybe he can’t hold Cas’ hand in public yet but he sure as hell can stride out of here walking funny with a fucked-out look on his face. That’s a start. And there’s something thrilling about it too, and he can see it in Cas’ eyes too when he looks up, lips slightly parted as he works third finger inside Dean and Dean feels like he might burst if Cas doesn’t give it to him proper now.

“Yeah, Cas, come on, need you to fuck me now,” Dean’s bucking his hips forward, his dick rigid and leaking precome and he knows Cas is at the end of his tether now, even if he looks cool as a cucumber except for the slight blush coloring his cheeks. He moans when Cas unzips his pants, slowly; distantly, he’s aware of someone banging on the bathroom door but he doesn’t care, he puts his hand on the back of Cas’ neck and pulls him closer, brings their foreheads together while Cas eases in. It burns and stretches and they _really_ should keep emergency lube on their persons at all times, but damn, it feels so good so soon and Cas kisses off the one tear that’s slipping down Dean’s cheek.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, eyes closed. “Do you want to—“

“It’s okay. I’m good, Cas, I’m gonna be good as soon as you—ah, _fuck_ ”, he curses loudly because Cas slams home _hard_ , just the way Dean likes it, and he’s biting Cas’ naked shoulder to keep himself from crying out. Cas is big and thick and fills him up so well and his own climax surprises him, he comes with a low, quiet moan and Cas follows soon after, gripping Dean’s hips hard, spilling over Dean’s ass.

Cas lets Dean go and cleans him up with some tissues, it will have to make do before they get to the motel as Dean’s breathing evens out and he tries not to pass out. He leans on Cas just a little as they walk out and it’s the best walk of shame he’s ever had.

And yeah, it definitely was a great idea to teach Cas how to play pool. It’s their new favorite game.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr.](http://closertoblasphemy.tumblr.com)


End file.
